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Reconnected

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The day following their affair beneath the blood moon was the longest of Hassan’s life.

One night had unexpectedly changed the entire course of his existence; questioning his faith, his future-- and most of all, his relationship with the priest in question. He was overcome with nerves, struggling to get to the end of the day without a spike of panic shooting through him at every negative thought that crossed his mind or tormented him.

By the time the evening rolled in, he was alone in his office-- two beers in and anxieties remaining high. Eyeing the clock, the minutes ticked closer to the inevitable meeting time-- praying the other man would keep his promise. The sheriff began to falter, until a knock at the door brought him back to reality; and not a moment too soon.

It was not an easy conversation, but a necessity nonetheless.

John was an honest man; after all, it was part of his job description. It was clear that Hassan’s feelings and longing were not one-sided, but the inner turmoil and conflict was prevalent in the priest. He was a man of God, first and foremost-- it was what he knew, a part of his identity-- just as was his vampiric blood.

Unlike Hassan, John had never had romantic relationships-- nor a bond as strong as a mate. The werewolf, on the other hand, had loved and lost a mate before-- and his son would also need to be considered for their potential future dynamic.

It was a situation easier discussed than realised. They would both require time to adjust, to consider their options-- no man was eager to jump straight to a new relationship before they’d properly considered their circumstances.

Since then, Hassan’s attendance at mass became a regular occurrence. He was open to the ideas of other faiths, but he was there for his son-- at least, that was what the residents of Crockett Island would assume. The sheriff had his own secrets, his own desires-- all stemming from the man before them, preaching from the good book and the word of the Lord.

Words went in one ear, and out the other-- all Hassan could focus on was his mate, and how he longed to be closer to him. But he would keep his distance, grant John the space he requested, and pray that there was a future within their grasp.

Now, with doubts on his mind-- a full moon was already upon him, sooner than he’d preferred. He could feel it, like a hunger deep in his stomach-- the wolf within him begging to be released, to feed, and now-- to claim his mate once more.

The sheriff grit his teeth in retaliation. He would cause no harm or unwanted attention to come to his mate; not now, and not ever-- not unless it was a mutual desire. Control would be his, mind sensible-- hands to himself for the inevitable night ahead.

As the sun began to set on the horizon, Hassan stumbled back into his office, locking the door as quickly as he possibly could with shaking hands. The feeling of shedding skin was overwhelming, a growl emanating from his chest, claws threatening to release the beast from confinement.

Time was running out. He had to act quickly.

Placing his possessions upon the desk, Hassan shrugged out of his boots and jacket, discarding them quickly by the door. He groaned with frustration, wiping sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand. 

With the last of his strength, the sheriff threw himself into the first cell-- slamming the door shut; locked, with keys far from reach. He collapsed to the bed, writhing upon it with discomfort. 

The wolf could be controlled and hidden away here. No one would know of his affliction. All would be safe.

A slither of moonlight touched his skin through the small window above; beckoning the beast to reveal itself.

Hassan rolled to his side, curling in on himself; breaths hot and ragged, fingers digging into his arms. The heat was beginning, the desire to mate an urge uncontrollable. Clothing stuck to his skin through sweat, scratches drawing blood, teeth gritting as he held back the desire to moan.

The need to change was unbearable. 

Fingers fumbled lazily at the front of his jeans, undoing them enough to slip a hand beneath his briefs, palming his hard, straining cock with haste.

The pain was his own doing.

It was Hassan’s wolf who had chosen John as a mate. A fellow werewolf would be drawn to him the same way, but the priest was far from a wolf-- and vampires were far from the monogamous type. 

Yet his body continued to yearn for him.

Unlike previous nights such as this, it was now harder to control himself-- knowing the one he desired was not within grasp.

Hassan wanted to mate.  

No, that wasn’t entirely correct.

He wanted his mate. He wanted John, here, beside him. He wanted to nuzzle into the priest’s neck, inhale his scent, steal his warmth, consume his lips--

Hassan whined; thoughts gradually becoming more lewd the longer John was on his mind.

His hand continued to work his cock, hips meeting the thrusts in time, biting his lip-- moaning the other man’s name softly through hitched breaths. His body ached for release, for touch, for friction-- for the warmth of another in his bed.

Hassan was struggling-- knowing it would never be enough to relieve the heat, to reach the pleasure his mind so desperately craved. Whether or not it was enough to get through the night would be a question unanswered--

Something startled the sheriff; a sound, a word, a scent-- something familiar, something he longed for, something he desired deeply--

Hassan gazed through hazy, bleary eyes, noting a shadowy figure by the door. Cold, reflective eyes illuminated in the darkness-- the wolf now realising he was no longer alone--

The cell door locked behind the other, leaving the two trapped together for the night to come.

Chapter Text

Speech was difficult in such a state of mind. 

Hassan could do no more than growl suspiciously, unable to focus his eyes or rise from the bed. He was too pained to move, too overcome with the unquenchable lust and hunger that the beast awakened.

A spike of fear shot through him-- who could be there, allowing themselves to be trapped with him? They had to show themself, for their own safety, in this case. 

Hassan was worried they would be hurt by the wolf--

Then the all-familiar scent graced his senses, breathing in the man he knew better than anyone.

But it was John. 

It was his mate.  

The sheriff sighed, overcome with relief. He knew the wolf could never allow harm to come to the priest, but the question remained-- what had brought him here, on this night?

“John…” He whispered through gritted teeth.

The man in question stepped closer, eyes reflecting in the dull moonlight. He felt silently commanding; his gaze piercing into the wolf’s soul-- imposing, dominant-- controlling.

Hassan shivered involuntarily, desperate to feel the other man’s hands upon him. But he found all he could do was writhe in discomfort, fingers digging into the sheets beneath him, waiting for contact.

“Look at you,” John whispered with mild condescension, remaining still. “My poor little wolf.” He cocked his head to the side, drinking in the sight on offer. “Tell me-- what troubles you?”

The sheriff tore his eyes away with a groan, throwing his head to the side. He wanted to tell John how much he needed him, how he longed to be near him-- how desperate he was to fuck-- but he could not bear to shovel so much burdon onto one person.

Then there was a touch to his forehead-- soft, gentle, caring-- and he thought he might melt.

“John…” Hassan gasped when the hand cupped his cheek, uring eyes to meet another’s.

“You’re giving me quite the show,” the priest murmured, fingers slowly tracing down his neck, ghosting over his collarbone. “So very needy…”

“Please…” His breath hitched, eyes half-lidded, biting his lip. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

There was a snicker from the other man. “And leave what’s mine to suffer?” John was almost offended by such a notion, a hint of possessiveness in his voice. “I don’t think so.”

As quickly as he was there, he retreated. Hassan wanted to protest, to beg for more-- but then he understood what the priest had in mind. 

John carefully removed his sweater, placing it in a neat pile-- along with his shoes. The wolf watched closely in awe, desperate to see the lean, handsome body trapped beneath clothes. The priest met his eyes, unblinking, as he gradually removed the clerical collar from his shirt, placing it aside gently.

The sheriff’s breath hitched, overcome with indescribable levels of lust. He wasn’t sure if this was some kind of sign-- but if the man continued to undress, continued to tempt him-- he could not feel responsible should he ravage the other man’s body until sunrise.

John had the same thought-- sliding onto the other end of the bed, settling between open, inviting thighs. His hand returned to Hassan’s neck, shifting down to his shirt; unbuttoning the garment slowly, carefully, as hands explored revealed flesh. He found skin a deep russet brown, ebony hair plentiful even in his human form alone-- muscular, tense, scarred-- delicate, sensitive--

All his.

Hassan shivered at the touch, practically arching from the bed seeking friction. Even the priest could see the man was in discomfort, perhaps even borderline pained from his desires--

“Tell me what you need…” John requested through a whisper; pushing the opened shirt either side. 

The sheriff gasped as the cool air hit his skin, eyes meeting the priest’s, pupils dilating. 

“Please--” He whined, desperate to hear more of the other man’s commanding voice. “I need…”

John watched on silently as Hassan captured his wrist, guiding the priest’s hand to his hard, straining cock. It was difficult in such a state of mind to find any words, hoping actions would suffice.

“I need you to fuck me,” he requested through a hoarse, whispered breath. “Please, John…”

The priest accepted the offering with a gentle hum; fingers wrapping eagerly around the other’s cock, watching the sheriff shudder as his hand worked.

“Oh?” John smiled almost devilishly, licking his lips at such an invitation. “First time for everything, I suppose.”

Although he’d never committed such acts on another before, he was beginning to understand the appeal. Were such bodily pleasures experienced by most to this extent-- or was there something more to it from their bond?

The priest cared not for such questions, eager to see the look upon the sheriff’s face when he came undone by his cock.

He picked up the pace, holding the wolf’s cock firmly, allowing it to thrust into his hand at every chance of friction. Such a sight caused his own to stir with interest; releasing it from confinement so that it could slide along the other in his grasp.

Together in one hand, John hummed with contentment, resuming his work with a lingering moan.

Leaning over his mate, the priest’s breath ghosted over skin, tongue tracing lips, seeking access. Fangs nipped gently at flesh, using the opportunity to steal a kiss-- watching the sheriff’s eyes flutter closed as he gave in to the sensations.

The intensity was awakening the wolf-- threatening to escape. Claws emerged, breaking skin-- teeth and hair following-- a desire to run and howl and bite and mark--

The vampire would not allow such insolence.

“Now listen here, dog--” John’s hand caught under his jaw, holding him down-- strong, commanding-- fangs displayed through a growl. “There’s no need for that,” he spat, voice lowering cautiously.

Hassan snapped back to his senses, forcing the wolf under control-- a soft moan escaping his lips. The possessiveness the priest had over him was creating such lust on a level he’d never experienced before. John was rough, yes-- but fuck, if the sheriff didn’t enjoy every second of it, he’d be lying. 

Overpowering a werewolf was no easy task, but it felt like second nature for the vampire. It was an aspect of their newfound relationship Hassan craved the most.

John’s fingers disappeared momentarily, fishing something out from his pocket. The sheriff could hardly focus, confused for a moment-- but then he smelt it, the faint scent of something familiar--

He’d come prepared.

Hassan stifled a moan when cold, slick fingers returned to his skin, coating his cock with one hand, and another dipping lower. A single, firm finger pressed inside the tight heat-- stretching and burning-- but only short-lived, knowing it was a feeling that would not last. Then an unexpected sensation shocked him, eyes flying open as John nudged against a previously unknown bundle of nerves, body shuddering as pure bliss overwhelmed him.

The sheriff sighed when the fingers retreated, feeling devoid in their wake. But then he was staring down at the other man’s hard cock with anticipation, unable to stop himself from licking his lips-- so very, very eager for it.

John couldn’t wait any longer-- removing Hassan’s jeans with a single, rough motion, pulling them off to reveal long, familiar legs. The priest settled between spread thighs once more, pulling hips flush against his own-- truly a sight to behold. He’d never seen such raw neediness in his life-- a man offering himself, sweet and lust-riddled, and ready to be taken. 

John licked his lips. He’d never thought a werewolf could be quite so enticing-- to the point where he wondered why he’d never been led astray by such desires beforehand.

Regardless of the situation they found themselves in, John dismissed lingering, guilty thoughts-- ready to have his way with the sheriff until sunrise.

Hassan’s legs quivered by John’s hips. He’d thrown his hands over his face; back arching, lips parted, breaths short and fast-- wanting, waiting-- anticipating the priest’s next move. It would be rude of John to leave the man begging any longer, so it would only be fair to indulge himself for the foreseeable future.

John carefully leaned over the man beneath him-- eyes meeting and never straying. With a firm hand upon the mattress, he used the other to guide himself-- pressing into the slick, offered heat with newfound haste. He was desperate to feel the warmth the sheriff offered, and more of the delicious sounds that would accompany him.

John held firmly on the wolf’s hip by the time he finally bottomed out, both gasping in relief and pleasure having finally been reconnected. Hassan momentarily grit his teeth, sighing as he adjusted to the feeling-- as he, too, had never experienced such pleasures before.

The priest was eager to please, capturing the sheriff’s lips with his own in a deep, possessive kiss. Breaths were few and far between; moaning into each other’s mouths as John began to move. Any attempt to restrain himself, to take his time, to ease them both into this newfound experience failed miserably-- unable to stop himself from fucking into the wolf relentlessly.

The heat and intensity of their connection was nearly too much to handle. John could feel himself losing control, desperate to claim what was his. He growled around a harsh thrust, burying his face in the werewolf’s neck. Teeth traced delicate skin, eager of a taste-- fangs sinking into flesh as he greedily took his fill.

Hassan shuddered, moaning at the mix of such pains and pleasures-- enough for him to tip over the edge. His entire body tensed; coming with the priest’s name tumbling from parted lips.

Hearing his name uttered in such a way ensured John could last no longer; freeing Hassan’s neck with a lick of his lips, reaching his own orgasm with a few final, erratic thrusts into his mate. 

The priest had never experienced such bliss-- not only from bodily pleasures, but the expression on the sheriff’s face was one that would remain ingrained in his mind forever.

John used the last of his strength to not collapse upon the other, barely keeping himself upright on shaking arms. Words were vacant, air filled with ragged panting as they both attempted to catch their breath. Sweat lingered on their skin; the cell smelling of nothing but sex and blood.

As the heat began to dissipate, John sought comfort, feeling his body begging for rest. Yet when he attempted to move, the sheriff panicked.

“Wait--” Hassan’s hands dug into John’s back, keeping him close. “ Stay,” he requested, voice wavering with uncertainty. “Please...”

The priest smiled lazily. He could not deny the other man even if he tried; and he was certainly in no mood to be alone. But they were tired, sore and sweaty-- both in need of sleep.

“There is no place I would rather be,” John hummed softly into the sheriff’s neck. “My dear, sweet wolf.”

John shifted his weight, awkwardly maneuvering their bodies in the limited space upon the cot. Although awkward, the two managed to make do; tangled together in a mess of limbs as their breathing evened out.

Hassan nuzzled in close, nose pressed into the crook of John’s neck; inhaling the scent of his mate as they drew closer together. He could feel the worst of the lunar effects wearing off, the beast within him at bay-- both tired yet satisfied from the evening’s activities.

The priest had already fallen asleep by the time Hassan peeked through half-lidded eyes. A serious conversation was long overdue-- the sheriff remaining surprised that John had visited him on such an evening. Doubts were prevalent, and he was desperate to understand the other man’s feelings towards their relationship-- and what it meant for them now.

Drifting off into dreamless slumber, his heart remained heavy with uncertainty.

Chapter Text

Hassan awoke to warmth encompassing him, finding his face pressed into a head of long, dark hair. He immediately recognised the scent of his mate, relaxing into their sleepy embrace. Soft, even breathing graced his ears-- the priest remaining asleep, even with the room illuminated by the morning sun.

The sheriff shifted slightly, hands finding hips, nose nuzzling lower, resting in the crook of John’s neck. He sighed, lingering a moment before placing a trail of soft kisses to skin. A hand ran through the priest’s hair, cupping his jaw-- the man humming in response as sleep gradually dissipated.

Neither man had slept quite so well in ages, despite their tall forms and small bed in comparison.

John pulled away far enough to allow lips to meet, stealing a lazy morning kiss, to which Hassan graciously accepted. What began as a greeting escalated; the kiss deepening with a mutual hum, fangs nipping at lips, the act becoming more passionate with each passing, fleeting moment. 

Hassan wanted to stay like this forever, be greeted by such a sight every morning from here on out--

But the wolf remained unconvinced that such a union would work.

Hassan broke away, face flushed with heat. 

“Live with me,” he requested against his better judgement-- words tumbling from lips before he could comprehend what he was saying. 

John chuckled. “You forget my place at the church.”

“I didn’t forget, per se,” Hassan breathed, biting his lip. “I just don’t want to be apart.”

“You know where my heart lay, first and foremost,” the priest replied, referring to a higher power. “But… this is certainly placing such faith into consideration.”

“I’d never want to purposely come between you and your faith, John. As you would do the same for me.” Hassan closed his eyes. “I do not mean to make your life more complicated than it needs to be. I’m just-- selfish.”

Tears fell from his eyes before he could comprehend it. The sheriff had not experienced so many emotions and felt such intense love and heartache since his last mate had passed. Now he’d been blessed with a second-- and did not want to lose them too.

That was not a reality his heart could take.

John cupped his cheek, lips pressed in a thin line. “You have loved and suffered great loss before me-- something which I cannot begin to imagine.” A thumb wiped away a stray tear with care. “I promise to let no further torment be inflicted upon you. But I need… time. To readjust.”

Hassan nodded silently, swallowing down the lump in his throat. The priest dipped closer, placing a gentle, tender kiss to his lips.

“Please remember this; I care for you more than I have for another.” John took in a deep breath, releasing it with a sigh. “I promise you an answer before the next full moon.” 

Although it wasn’t much in terms of an answer, the priest’s word was his bond-- a commitment that he would see to fruition.

Hassan was pulled into a firm embrace, head pressed into the priest’s chest. It was warm and comforting, familiar and homely; a place he never wanted to leave. John ran a gentle hand up his back, moving in circles, soothing the wolf. There was a kiss pressed to his forehead, words mumbled, barely above a whisper--

“Until then... please wait for me, my wolf.”

 

*   *   *

 

Three weeks had passed. 

Hassan was not a patient man, but he had no choice. The two of them kept up their usual charade of being nothing more than associates; the town sheriff, and the resident priest-- two completely different worlds, rarely colliding.

Time was running out. It wouldn’t be long until the next full moon, yet Hassan had not heard an answer from John since that night-- albeit their casual, platonic conversations when the situation arose. 

Awaiting the priest’s answer was only one of the sheriff’s current problems.

Several years had come and gone since he’d lost his wife-- his mate, who he’d expected to have for a lifetime, and taken from him far too soon. Since then, he could admit that he’d been afraid of finding such love again. Worse yet, Hassan wanted to ensure that his son would never feel that his mother was being replaced.

Loneliness was not something new to him; but it was not a life he desired. His son was already growing up into a fine young man-- no doubt he would one day awaken to find Ali living his own life, being his own, independent person.

Where would that leave him? A sheriff, on a tiny, remote island-- living alone in a town of people who had no care for him--

Other than one in particular. 

Hassan continued to cling to the hope that he and John could have something together, and if that were the case-- then it was important for him to have such conversations with his son, first and foremost-- before their relationship escalated further.

But for now, he was thankful that the sun was setting, allowing him to finally turn in for the day. Possible scenarios and conversations were playing over in his mind, and he pondered how Ali may react to discovering his newfound relationship with the town priest, of all people--

Considering his son’s newfound interest in catholicism, he couldn’t help but cringe internally at the sinful nature of the relationship he shared with the priest. Explaining how such a union came to fruition would be… difficult.

Stepping into his home, Hassan shut the door behind him, sighing with relief as he kicked off his boots. He promptly removed his jacket, hanging it the usual place by the door, allowing himself a moment to relax. He was tired, hungry, and in need of rest-- mentally and physically.

“Ali,” he called, walking into the living room. “Son-- I need to speak to you.”

“What’s wrong?” Ali asked, perking up from the couch. He was packing his bag with haste, paying only half attention to his father. “Is it about your new mate?”

“I--” Hassan paused, momentarily dumbfounded by the response, cogs slowly turning in his head. “How did you--”

“Come on, dad. I wasn’t born yesterday. I can smell them on you,” Ali smirked, before quickly adding, “and yes, I’m well aware that we are werewolves. You’re not subtle about that either.”

“But, I uh…” Hassan shook his head, stuck in a moment of pure bewilderment. “When did this happen?”

“Look, I get it, dad. You’ve had a lot on your mind recently, I can tell.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively. “And not once have you ever complained about attending mass with me lately, either. I see how you look at Father John.” 

Hassan had found himself completely speechless at the turn of events. Alright-- they were in dire need of a proper conversation at this point. But Ali had other plans, brushing past his father and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Hassan asked, almost stuttering the question from residual shock. “It’s getting late.”

“I won’t be long.” Ali rolled his eyes, pausing by the door. He sighed, face flushed-- hand behind his neck. “You’re... not the only one in love, dad.”

With that said, the younger man headed out with a parting smile, grabbing his bike on the way down the road. Hassan allowed his eyes to follow curiously, watching as the young Flynn came into view. The two boys greeted each other in an oddly awkward hug, looking away bashfully-- especially once they noted they were being watched. 

The sheriff simply waved as the two disappeared down the road, while his mind continued to make some attempt to catch up to the onslaught of events that had just occurred.

Hassan collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, feeling that his entire reality shifted in such a short frame of time. Kids these days… How do they grow up so fast?

At least Ali was happy, and that’s what counted.

But now the sheriff found himself alone for the evening, unsure what to do with himself. He pondered for a moment, too exhausted to think clearly. Perhaps a book, or a film-- or maybe just give up and call it an early night. 

He’d barely rested five minutes before there was a knock on the door.

Hassan sat upright, brow furrowing for a moment. There were no guests to be expected, and it was rare for anyone to call for him outside of his usual hours. The knocking continued, to the point where he could no longer avoid it.

Opening up the door, Hassan paused at the unexpected company. He silently stared at the tall figure before him; dressed neatly in his usual attire, complete with a light cardigan and combed-back hair.

“John?” Hassan stated incredulously. 

“Hello again, sheriff.” The priest smiled, clearing his throat. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced.”

“Certainly not.” He took a step back, making room with a gesture of his hand. “Please-- come in.”

John nodded graciously, accepting the invitation without a further word. Hassan closed the door behind him, turning back with a question on his mind. 

“What can I--”

Hassan startled, words stolen as lips found his own-- moaning at the unexpected contact. John’s hand slipped behind his neck, holding him close, as another found his hip, deepening the kiss with urgency. The moment was fleeting; the two men finding the air silent apart from gasped breaths.

“That was… unexpected,” the sheriff commented once they finally parted.

John smiled, fangs on display. “I’ve made my decision,” he replied, removing his clerical collar, and returning to the other’s lips. “My wolf… I could never deny you.”

Hassan melted as the onslaught of kisses continued, a hand slipping to his back, bodies pressed impossibly close. If their actions continued to escalate at this rate, they’d never make it to the bedroom in time. But there was a lack of clarity in John’s words, causing doubt to overcome Hassan once more. 

“Wait, John--” The sheriff pushed them apart, searching the priest’s reflective eyes desperately, unsure if what he was hearing was correct. “Do you mean it?”

“My word is my bond,” John replied, voice low and commanding. A brief smile graced his lips, hand brushing tenderly under his jaw. “And you are mine.”

Hassan couldn’t argue with that-- allowing himself to slip into the warm embrace and love offered to him, accepting every ounce of attention greedily-- and continuing to be desperate for more. As the two awkwardly made their way to the bedroom, neither wanted to part long enough to breathe-- choosing to rip clothes from one another until they were littered by their feet. 

John was quick to tackle the other man to the bed, straddling his thighs, hands roaming freely. He licked his lips, appreciating the sight of his flustered mate-- so very eager to have his way with the wolf until sunrise-- to which Hassan reciprocated without hesitation.

Although the evening would pass them by, their life together had only just begun.